


Imperative

by Moonsheen



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsheen/pseuds/Moonsheen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>June Darby explains to Ratchet where babies come from. Ratchet explains to June Darby where complicated Cybertronian relationship paradigms come from. Like you do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperative

"What amazes me, is how your species has _survived_ this long!"

Ratchet's voice hit an especially plaintive rasp as Jack walked into the command center. He winced at what he saw. It wasn't that he didn't sometimes appreciate his mom stopping by when her shift was over it was just, well , _mom_. Sometimes she fussed, and brought him lunch, and reminded him he had clean underwear. Sometimes she got into arguments with the resident science expert. This seemed to be one of those times. Ratchet loomed over her, and if it weren't Ratchet and if he weren't obviously so taken aback by something she'd said, Jack would've felt a stab of alarm. It was sort of funny how you got used to seeing twenty foot tall robots stomping around.

Miko, Raf, and Bulkhead were sitting on the opposite side of the center, well away from the argument. Raf looked mildly worried. Miko and Bulkhead, for their part, were leaned forward in curiousity.

"Oh heck," groaned Jack. "What, did Mom download solitaire onto the console or something?"

"Uh," said Bulkhead.

"No," said Raf, in a small voice. "Your mom's been. Uh. Showing Ratchet stuff on human biology."

"Ratchet's just Googled where babies come from," said Miko, eagerly.

"Oh," said Jack, and stared ahead in mute horror.

"He didn't really use Google," said Raf.

"Uh," said Bulkhead. Jack wondered if autobots could bluescreen. He wondered if it felt a little like he did at that moment, as his mother shrugged.

"What can I say?" said June Darby. Ratchet seemed to shy away as she gestured at him, as though terrified something about the human reproductive system was contagious. "That's just how it's done."

"That is ridiculous," said Ratchet. "Did no one think to do a redesign?"

June drummed a hand against her stomach almost thoughtfully. "Not exactly an option for us."

"No, no of course not, you're organic, it doesn't work like that." Ratchet shook his head in disgust.

"So, uh," said Jack. "Raf, maybe you should…"

"Already knew," said Raf, mournfully. " _I_ Googled it."

"So I take it robots don't have babies?" asked Miko. She poked Bulkhead in the knee joint, which was presently folded beside her head.

"What?" asked Bulkhead.

"Baby robots!" said Miko. "Where do they come from?"

"Umm, gosh, Miko. " Bulkhead's optics flickered with distress. "That's…"

"We're really talking about this," said Jack.

"We really are," said Raf.

"Oh, like you haven't wondered?" said Miko. "So like, are there tentacles? Or perhaps claspers, like a _shark_. Megatron looks kind of like a shark!"

"Miko!" Jack clamped his hands over Raf's ears.

"What on earth would possess your species to undergo something so horrifying?" yelled Ratchet. "Reproductive imperatives aside--"

"Well, let me tell you, some of those 'reproductive imperatives' aren't _all_ bad," said June.

"Mom!" Jack clamped his hands over his own ears.

June's face froze. She glanced over her shoulder. "Oh," she said. "Hi, Jack. Could you and your friends step out for a bit? Me and Ratchet are just having an adult conversation."

"Yeah, no problem, great, see you later," said Jack, grabbing Rafael.

"What did she…"

"You don't want to know."

"Bulkhead, take Miko with you," said Ratchet, as weary as a sentient alien robot could ever sound.

"Uh, sure," said Bulkhead, and creaked up.

Miko tried to dash out from under him, but quickly found herself snatched from the floor. "Oh hey!" she said, punching the air. "We were just getting to the good part! Bulkhead, you tell me! Where do new robots come from? Do they come from eggs?  Is it sticky? Or not-sticky? I want to know. Bulkhead!"

"What do you mean by 'sticky'?" asked Raf.

"Uh, let's go for a drive," said Bulkhead.

"Yes," said Jack. "A drive. A drive sounds like a great idea. Let's do this. Let's do this right now."

They vanished down the hall.

 

 

June waited until the children were out of range to turn back to the medic, who hunched irritably over the console. "Well," she said, conversationally, "that will probably get told to some therapist one day. It's not all about a reproductive imperative, you know."

"As a reproductive imperative it's a terrible one. My research has told me that before proper population regulatory enhancements were discovered, females of your species frequently died in the process."  
  
"They did." June's smile faded. "They still do."  
  
"And did you know it's possible to transmit _viruses_ via that form of interface? Some of which there are no full proof firewalls in place to do _anything about it."_  
  
"Yes, I know that too."  
  
"And that...thing called an 'orgasm.' Are you aware the havoc it temporarily wreaks on your systems? It's remarkable you don't knock yourselves into stasis. To say nothing of the unfortunate location and structure of your interfaces--"  
  
"Yes," said June, dryly. "Yes, I think I have some idea of how that works."  
  
"Well, then..." Ratchet held up a hand as though the answer would come from on high. "Why?"  
  
"Well, firstly, don't knock it 'til you try it--though I don't know if that's much of an option for big guys like you." Ratchet's shoulders briefly rolled in what she took to be the Cybertronian equivalent of a shudder. "There's a lot of reasons. Recreation. Boredom. Loneliness. Sometimes, if you're lucky, love."  
  
The robot stared at her blankly. There was a long, awkward pause.  
  
June threw up her hands. "You're not going to tell me you don't understand that concept."  
  
"No," said Ratchet, tetchily. "Your culture just has a very broad application of a single word."  
  
"Oh, and how did it work on Cybertron?"

Ratchet sighed, and crossed the room, bending in front of a specific console. He frowned until June realized he wanted her to join him.

"To begin with, the Cybertronian language is... structured entirely differently than any organic tonally based languages. It began as what you would call programming code. The closest approximation I give you as an example of its truest form is..." June thought she caught something dark flicker across the robot's facial plates. "Bumblebee. Who communicates in a base form of the language, parallel to your morse code."  
  
"You're trying very hard to paraphrase for me, aren't you?"

"I have to! It's far beyond your organic understanding. There are a number of different variations. The tonal form that language did not exist until very late in our history...and we came to rely on it especially after the war, when communication via any form of network could be hacked by an enemy."

"Must be a headache."

"You have no idea," said Ratchet, with feeling. "So among the Cybertronian language, as a collective, there are thousands of very specific sequences related to interpersonal relationship with other units. It is originally based in our function. Units who were constructed to work in tandem to accomplish a goal were found to function better if they had some imperative to protect their fellow units, and therefore maintain efficiency towards the completion of that goal. Gestalt units, whom are capable of combining into a larger functioning entity, are therefore examples of the ...most primitive form of 'affection' as it appeared in our culture. The desire to stay complete. To remain a functional machine to continue your purpose. You might argue that the older form of 'love' in our language was love of purpose. A primitive Cybertronian's strongest imperative was to complete the task requested of them, and they would do that with all of their being. Bonds grew from that, as we became a more reasoning species. Here, see for yourself."

He keyed in a few a notes into the console in front of them. The screen gave a creak. Ratchet hissed and typed it in again, after a moment, text began to pour across the screen nearest to them. Thousands upon thousands of strange characters, scrolling endlessly.

"Cybertronian altruism was based in a sense of 'oneness,' and that oneness, if you are superstitious, is the All-Spark itself."  
  
"So, Cybertronian for 'God.'"  
  
"No, not quite like that," snapped Ratchet.

"All right, all right," said June.

"Our directives grew more sophisticated as we evolved as a species, the functions which served as our imperative to work with one another grew more sophisticated as well. Organics define their relations through hormonal and neurological response. Your evolution is reliant on your short lives and ease of reproduction. Your relations to one another are therefore centered towards achieving that reproduction before your organic bodies betray you. Our bodies are limited only by the availability of a reliable power source. Our evolution is therefore not around the desperation to continue our line, but rather the desperation of continuing to function as a whole, efficient machine."

June nodded. "So by that logic, you evolve more slowly."  
  
Ratchet made a noise that sounded remarkably similar to the clearing of one's throat. June wondered if that was natural, or a sound bite he'd picked up somewhere. "Relatively speaking. But if you collect the eons of Cybertronian accomplishment, you will find our progress remarkable since our original creation."  
  
"All right, and if you matched that up with what humans have managed in, hm, 3,000-odd years?"  
  
Ratchet's eyes flickered in agitation. She'd caught him off guard. "That's hardly a fair comparison," he said quickly.  
  
June tried her best not to laugh. "I see." She let that one go. "So, what sort of bonds are we talking about?"

"You've seen for yourself, haven't you? I suppose gestalt units, and those that share a frame design and spark, are the closest to your human concept of 'family.' The affection coded into them is related to their similar make and loyalty to others of their own type."  
  
"Like me and Jack."  
  
"No, not quite. The closest equivalent to that is the connection between a maker and their creation. And we..." He stopped, sobered. "We have lost our makers. But I suppose if we wanted to bring it down to your human terms, the affection between an organic parent and their offspring would by Cybertronian standards be considered the greatest form of affection."  
  
June stood a little straighter. "You say that like it's not one of the strongest in our culture, too."  
  
"Yes, but there is more _intention_ in Cybertronian creation-- it is--" Ratchet gesticulated, as though he were trying to mold a lump of clay. He gave up after a moment with a dismissive wave. "A much more complicated process. There would be some among us who would be deeply envious, of the ease with which you can create life."

"You wouldn't be one of them, would you?"  
  
"Do I look like I've ever been ported to an assembly line?"  
  
The mental image made June's eyebrows shoot up. "And if you were, would you consider the things you built your children?"  
  
"If they shared my prototype and code, perhaps. But that is beside the point. I'm an older model. Physically it would hardly make sense to duplicate my framework--unless of course, you were to duplicate my _mind_ but...ah, that was never a perfect science."  
  
"So, basically, you're menopausal."  
  
"What?"  
  
June covered her mouth. "Never mind."

Ratchet chose to ignore that. "The closest thing to 'family' you will see among the present Cybertronians, in your human understanding of the term, would be the two known as Dreadwing and Skyquake, who had similar frames and shared a spark. The next would be the Eradicons, mass produced bots who come from the same mold and line. The next after that would be Arcee and Starscream, whose lines and classes originated from a similar design scheme--although serious modifications have made their functions very different."

The screen split into two windows. Each showed basic slim body standing with arms at their sides. One June recognized right away, the other was less familiar to her--they were all drawn in simplistic lines, like the floor plan of a building with guidelines crossing up and down the figure.

There was a faint resemblance, in the long arms and "So they'd be more like...distant cousins."  
  
Ratchet looked as though the comparison pained him. "Yes. I suppose."  
  
"Huh. Does Arcee know that?"  
  
"Why wouldn't she? It's apparent in their external designs."

Starscream vanished from the screen.

 "No love lost, I guess."  
  
"Are human cousins required to love one another?"  
  
June looked back on the dozen odd family gatherings in her life.  "Point. Well, all right. How about Wheeljack and Bulkhead? They seem to get along."  
  
"Easy. They do not share a design, but they were affiliated with the same group. The Wreckers. As such that form of love is rooted in their shared function during that period. The Cybertronian word for that form would translate very literally to 'two autonomous robots existing in the same functioning sphere towards a shared goal and shared accomplishments--' abbreviated of course."  
  
"Oh, of course! How long's the full version."  
  
"It would take me five minutes to translate."  
  
"Abbreviated it is! So...that's your version of friendship, isn't it?"  
  
"Friends who would gladly die for each other to accomplish their goals, yes. It implies a closeness beyond casual acquaintance. It is beyond basic design."  
  
"Strong friendship."  
  
"If you must simplify it!"  
  
"So what about Optimus and Megatron?"  
  
"That…" Ratchet paused, as though considering his next words very carefully. "That is where things get more complicated."

He passed his hand over the screen. A new set of characters popped up, even more unfamiliar than the last and scrolling rapidly.

"They were...yes, 'friends' is the closest term for it, and I've used that before. Although in Cybertronian the word would be a word string approximate to mm. "An aberrant shared non-mechanical function between two unmatched units with different directives but shared goals and purpose.' Again. Abbreviated. It would have been considered unusually close, for the fact that they were two bots from wildly different classes and functions."  
  
"Not each other's normal type."  
  
She thought she caught a hint of a wry laugh in his vocalizations at that. "Hm. A _way_ of putting it. Such relationships would have once been frowned upon by ancient society which valued consistency and efficiency: hence why the caste system existed. However, as we grew more complicated, many began to find benefits in such unusual pairings. Certainly, the blood-thirsty gladiator Megatronus would not have gotten so far if he hadn't had the more reasonable Orion Pax granting him the legitimacy to deceive us all."

"And Optimus wouldn't be who he was today," finished June.  
  
"No, he would not," said Ratchet, slowly, as though speaking through teeth he didn't have. "And Cybertron may not have been destroyed, and countless lives might have been saved. Do not mistake me. Together they were a pair that benefitted each other and worked towards a remarkable greater function. They...worked well together. Powerfully well. It was ...something that many Cybertronians would envy. Did envy."

His optics dimmed. His digits clenched. June wondered for a moment just how much more sensitivity a robot built for surgery had in their hands.  
  
"But Megatronus _betrayed_ that function. It In many ways there is no greater pain to a Cybertronian than failing in a directive, and we had progressed to a point where that pain could be felt even if the unit was not one with whom we shared a gestalt function or a design prototype."

"He broke his heart, you mean."

Ratchet bustled in a creaky wall of discontent. "That isn't--"

"No," said June, with an air of finality. She rubbed her knuckles. "I think I do know something about that."

Ratchet tilted as though he were about to correct her, then he stopped, and settled his hands back on the keyboard.

"So," said June, after a long moment.  "What about you and Optimus."

Ratchet stared blankly ahead at the blinking screen. "Simple. He is my commanding officer and my old friend."

June laughed. "Now you're the one using simple Earth terms."

Ratchet made a whistling noise, and began to type. Screens popped on and off in front of him, then, in the comfortable rhythm of typing, he said, with a jarring lack of inflection:

"'Two units who have absolutely nothing in common in function or design, whom on their own volition and conscious processes have chosen to build a number of co-functioning subroutines, based around consistency in service to each other, for the duration of centuries, for the continuation of that service, and for whom at least one unit would be happy to make whatever necessary sacrifices to see to it that the other's team and well-being will continue until those share goals are met, with the well-being of the singular unit may often be considered a secondary concern.'"

He paused. It was not for his benefit. He didn't need to catch his breath.

June leaned forward to look up at him. "Even if it seems unreasonable by any other standard?"

"No. In that paradigm, it is _always_ within reason."

"Hm," said June, settling back. "See, in Earth-speak? That's what we'd call being in love."

Ratchet's optics flickered. He looked at her, and then looked away, the screens went still. He was quiet for a long time.

"I see," he said, in a low voice. "How... very basic of you."


End file.
